A bipolar fear of mine

As a bipolar person, one of my biggest fears is that, one day, I won't be able to function EVER AGAIN as a result of my illness. Just that the illness, which we're all still trying to learn and understand, will eventually become total, like Alzheimers, and I'll never be able to work on my book or even be able to take care of the basic things in my life. I'm only 42 right now. Could bipolar overcome me completely in the next year? Month? Week? Will it destroy me today? It's hard to get a prognosis on the illness. It's very scary to me.

The life frustrations of a 42 year old bipolar man

It's 2:36 AM EST here in Florida, USA. I'm currently listening to a techno song on my IPOD. It's by Christopher S featuring Tommy Clint. "Tear Down the House." As I listen to it, I think of dreams, dreams that I had when I was a teenager, namely to be the front man of a musical group. I didn't want to play an instrument. I wanted to strut my stuff as a front man. I can sing but I've never gone forward with the idea. That said, I've had a very hit and miss life. What I've done well, I've done very well. The other end isn't so much what I've done poorly so much as what I haven't done at all. I feel secure enough in myself to post that I'm very sexually inexperienced and haven't had a girlfriend since I was 22 in 1996. There have been some opportunities but nothing I wanted to act on. It's usually been the girls I want don't want me; the girls that want me I don't want. Anyway, I'm bipolar. My luck with women faded around the time I was diagnosed (1995.) I'm much more of a clean liver since those college days but I can't score. I'm good looking but I'm unemployed and working on writing a novel. It's very good and very long but I don't delude myself that it will sell. I have no clue how to make money and I'm not healthy enough to work full time and I can't find a part time job to fit me. I must admit that I see many women as gold diggers naturally. Women need security and go for the money. It's not that they're very shallow and don't love men but they're the baby birthers and they need financial security and stability. That leaves me out. No money. No love. I don't consider myself a loser. To me, winners and losers are people that become good people, good human beings. This is a tough thing to do in our world and the most humane people are the biggest winners. That said, I can't delude myself that I'm a material winner because I'm a big loser in that area. I grew up with excellent grades and I was an all conference baseball player that was known for game winning hits and being able to handle pressure. As I my bipolar disorder kicked in, I couldn't do anything without feeling so anxious I could barely move. A clutch and cocky guy had become a wreck that just couldn't do life anymore. I often couldn't even do the basics like raising a glass to my lips without shaking so badly I'd almost drop it. I was horrified to see I was going to need a lot of help in my life and I would never be able to live the happy life I wanted to live, namely one of independence and success. I wanted to conquer the world and I had the talent to go far. Then the death sentence diagnosis. I often put a good spin on the situation and there's much to be said for a positive spin. Some nights, like this one, though, send me to the keyboard. I'm living that life of quiet desperation. I'm writing an excellent book, literature, that is meaningful and inspiring but it's about people in the mental health system. That's not a popular subject. I can claim a certain amount of artistic and intellectual snobishness but it can't hide my material reality all the time. I'm struggling greatly and I'm very sad about it. I plow forward with a book that's becoming my own personal War and Peace for several years now with it being my only hope for any money. I survive on charity; my Dad pays my rent and I survive on disability for the rest. I'm desperate. Very desperate. I'm not sure how much of it is illness or my own fears but I feel like I'm swimming as hard as I can against an incredible current in my face. I'm paddling as hard as I can but I know I can never reach shore. Happy people are often next to me but a million miles away, too. They're in a place I just couldn't reach, for whatever reason. So I struggle with frustration, trying to not let it come down on me like a piano falling on me from out of the sky. It's just so hard; so hard to do things I used to breeze through. I need to cry but I'm so resigned to my life that sadness is unnecessary. I feel like I had my death sentence years ago. Now, it's about doing the best I can just to stay sane for two minutes. I'm not going to make it as a front man.

What this bipolar person thinks of society - Part 1

STICK WITH ME PAST THE BRIEF TECHNICAL STUFF! I'm writing "Part 1" because this is a big post I'll have to split up. When I say, "Society," I'm talking human beings. If I typed, "The World," that would include animals, trees, etc. How I see "rocks and plants" isn't my intention with this post so I'll continue.

I'll be boring (probably even more than usual) for a few paragraphs in explaining the Xs and Os of what society is to me from an anthropological and sociological perspective. If you haven't already closed this page, read on. From an anthropological view, humans are motivated by gut instincts such as procreation and the urge to satisfy our needs for food, water, etc. The sociological view of humans is that we form into groups of similar people to satisfy our need for belonging, protection and emotional and spiritual happiness. This is why we form into groups with people of similar religious and political views, as well as groups over things like our favorite sports teams, favorite TV shows, etc. Though humans often like arguing their positions, no one wants to argue all the time. We seek peace and calm, often with family members (the smallest group there is.)

HANG IN THERE! So humans are motivated by gut, physical needs and the physical, emotional and spiritual needs that come from group interaction and participation. STA?Y WITH ME! I've posted his information to give you, the reader, the sense that I know what I'm talking about when it comes to what society is. My perspective isn't distorted and my post isn't a "Society sucks man!" kind of thing that comes from not having a clue what society is.

OKAY. My perspective: I was born in Louisville, KY, in 1973. My family and I considered ourselves at least somewhat "Southern" though I had no idea what that really meant at the time. In 1983, we moved to Wisconsin. I was attacked for being "Southern" by Northern people who are as bigoted and hateful about such things as Southern people are supposed to be (and often are.) For the first time in my life, I learned what it was to be an absolute outcast. Only a few peers in my world came close to defending me. That said, I was far from perfect myself. Some peers wanted to be friends with me but I didn't really click with them. I wasn't completely alone but I went from a great communal feel in KY to being in Siberia in Wisconsin. I'm not saying KY is better than WI, just that I was in a family and community atmosphere from where I was born. That didn't exist where I moved to. So now I'm hated and insulted and rejected and physically assaulted just a few short months after I had friends and extended family and emotional happiness in another place. I leaned some devastating lessons in life's jungle at 10 years of age. I learned what crushing sadness is; I learned what terror is; I learned what loneliness is; I learned how sick group mentalities and bigoted humanity can be; I learned powerlessness and hopelessness; I learned deep humiliation and self-loathing; I learned to hate myself and everything that I was. I learned how evil the world can be because, when you're 10 years old, the world is everything that you experience. I've had to fight and struggle to survive from a very young age in this thing called "society." That is my perspective.

Part 2 will come soon. THANKS FOR READING.




Keeping in mind that we're all animals when it comes to our motivations,

My early years of being bullied and humiliated

This is hard for me. I'm trying to organize my thoughts and feelings properly and I'm finding it difficult. I'm 42 and have been in therapy for years and I'm feeling angry and very agitated about writing about my experiences of emotional abuse suffered at the hands of classmates when I was between 10 and 16 years old. I have a lot of emotion stored up over it. I don't want to seem like a whiner or someone who just wants to dump his emotional problems on others. That said, I'll go into my story and end with my thoughts and feelings about how it effects me today.


I was born in Louisville, KY, in 1973. For ten years, I benefited from a close extended family and good friends in my home state and I was very happy and well socially adjusted. At age 10, my father was transferred to Wisconsin. I was a little torn about leaving home but took it as an adventure. For some reason, it didn't really bother me that much to leave. Wisconsin had a major league baseball team (we moved just outside Milwaukee) and I was VERY excited about that. I remember meeting some of my new classmates (it's fifth grade) the first few days. My Dad, a businessman, told me to shake their hands when I met them. This seems like good advice to me today but I suppose it's not how cool kids do things. My handshakes drew strange looks from my Wisconsin peers. I made a lame joke about the name of one of the people I met; not offensive, just lame. I remember a kind of sarcastic "okay" and feeling that I'd messed the whole thing up. Being a ten year old that loved to play, I went about socializing and hanging around other boys on break. I may as well have had leprosy. No one there wanted anything to do with me. I was from Kentucky and was thus, "a redneck." I had no clue what that even was yet I'm from the "South" so that means I'm a redneck. I was made fun of for my voice and for my walk. Three boys got together and mocked my walk right in front of me. I suppose the little bastards thought it would be funny. It really upset me. I couldn't talk or move without feeling self-conscious, like the eyes of the room were on me. I'll put this into context by saying that this never happened to me in Kentucky. I was some sort of oddball for these people in Wisconsin (oh, and I was in a Catholic school.) In between classes became a nightmare. Bullies would come and bump into me or insult and mock me. Certain classes were a nightmare if the bullies sat near me. In grade school, we had one group and that group went to all the classes. There was no escape. I wasn't very small but I wasn't a fighter. At break time, everyone played "smear the queer." I, to my horror, was the "queer." I'd be standing in the snow with the other boys playing football. They'd throw the ball to me (I didn't want it) and then gang tackle me. I tried to carry as many of them as I could before falling. Once, I sprained a finger being heaped on. I don't know why but I kept sitting near my bullies at lunch. While I was about to pass out from my sprained finger, my main bully kept calling me a jerk off to my face and high fiving his friend. I made it to my feet and was half carried out of the room because of the pain in my finger. That took place in the church basement where there were other incidents. I was garbage to that group. I was worthless. Wisconsin schools had a Secret Santa thing we didn't have in Kentucky. We drew people randomly. One girl drew me and loudly voiced her disapproval to her friends. She had drawn the school loser. I was devastated. Whenever I tried to get into a group discussion, I was mocked. I was like the court jester only I didn't get the joke. My bullies read my notes in class when I was in the bathroom and had plenty to mock me on when I came back. They talked about sexual slang terms to me knowing that I didn't understand them. There was the whole "What's a dick for?" thing, which is I think a joke from Spies Like Us. I didn't know the answer, just that I was being abused. They, of course, said "You don't know what a dick's for?!" I got called gay a lot so I guess that's what that meant. I used to ask my parents if they knew any of these. I even started watching movies trying to learn the slang terms, most of which were very dirty. We had a day when we did outdoor activities like a track and field meet. I tried to talk to others and was laughed at by a group of girls that were mortified I was near them. Oh, they made fun of my haircut too and my hair color (red.) It would be fine if any of this was good natured but it wasn't. It was all done to dehumanize and humiliate me. One girl, considered the nicest in school, attacked me in a gym class and half tore my shirt off. I sat down on the bleachers in shock. No one did anything. I can't remember how I got another shirt. Maybe the worst incident came in gym when we were playing dodgeball. I was having fun. I threw a ball and turned to go to the back line so I wouldn't get hit. I felt a tap on my shoulder. My main bully had crossed the line over to my side and threw a ball in my face from point blank range. Everyone in the gym laughed at me. Things got a little better by only by eighth grade (I learned how to make people laugh.) I remember I got home one day in eighth grade, four years after I'd moved there, and told myself that I'd finally had a day at school when I wasn't laughed at or insulted. My final humiliation in grade school came at the year book signings. Only a handful of people wanted to sign my year book. A few of those that did signed that I was a fucker or they were sad they knew me. When I moved on to HS, it started all over again as I was one of only two people from that Catholic school to go to a public HS. I survived, though I was always unpopular. However, I did have some friends, though they eventually back stabbed me.

Right now, I'm 235 pounds. If any of those people were in front of me this instant, I'd tear them to pieces. In fact, I want to go back there right now, at my current age and size, and see them when they were 10. I'd beat them all to death. Seriously. It's why I try not to think about or dwell on this stuff.

I've lived and relived certain moments of these years in brief flashbacks. I say "brief" because I don't linger on the memories. I get mad and it seems like a cycle. Every time I go to the gym, "I'm not going to be a victim today. I'm going to fight back today" is always in my mind. It always spurs me on to lift more weights and keep a surly "You're not going to fuck with me" attitude. Every time, it's like I'm about to go to school again, only this time I'll be ready. No one will mess with me anymore. These thoughts aren't always at the front of my consciousness. I try to have that attitude in general when I'm exercising but it's always traced to my upbringing. I work out to defend myself. Maybe if I'm bigger and stronger at age 42, I can go back in my mind and come to grips with the times I was abused and pushed around because I was nice and sweet and innocent. The problem is that I've long since moved far away from where I grew up. I wanted to leave. I didn't want to stay in a place where I had been hurt so much and I couldn't go on being angry in that place, almost looking for certain bullies from the past so that I could get even. That kid that kneed me in the leg in front of the other guys because I was "in his seat." That one that humiliated me in front of the other guys. I'd go through the motions of beating them up in my mind. I was consumed by anger and, sadly, feel that I still am at times. I haven't seen or talked to any of these people in years except for one. I called my main bully on the phone from Florida in 2005. I couldn't hold onto that hate anymore. I told him how he'd bullied me. He apologized sincerely. I don't think he thought about it one day after grade school. The victims are the ones that have to live with the hate and shame and humiliation every day. The bullies live in bliss.

Now that I've written this, I'm going to state that I've bullied others, too. While I was being bullied, I tried to bully other newcomers to my grade school from time to time. Sadly, I became a "social ladder" person. Anything to not be on the bottom. I grew up learning how to insult people to get the laughs of the group for me instead of against me. Maybe that's why I went on to minor in politics in college. All that just makes me look back at myself with even more shame that I mocked and laughed at others at times so that I wouldn't be the butt of the joke. All those jokes on the Simpsons about Bart's classmates ring very true to me. Oh, and no one wanted to sit next to me on the bus and they'd block the seats to keep me from sitting there. I forgot about that one.

In closing, I'm going to state the name of where I went to grade school. It was St. John Vianney in Brookfield, Wisconsin. Shame on everyone that worked there at the time. There was rampant bullying and horrible abuse and the principal and staff never did anything to protect the students.

Poem - My Lost Love

The hour was long, I knew not when, I’d find my long lost love again.

A loss long past; days fly but die hard and fast; cursed memories too pained,
too condemned to keep, to remain ashamed, strained, aghast.

My love faded and changed, her face beautiful, perfect, unsoiled,
arranged making me feel I had once more won those timeless
days of joy begun when love’s fresh dew and warm rays of sun smiled
on our love new, pure, powerfully felt vividly as one.

Deep kisses giving way to long caresses; holding each other, the unbreakable
grip of two lovers, never wanting anything other, never separated, never alone,
never craving another.

But I knew it an illusion; my primal heart not letting go, not able to see
truth behind false fusion with woe gaining speed, breaking into my mind,
a woe on whose brain it set and and gleefully, savagely, sadistically dined.

I was not foolish but fooled, distracted, blissfully numb in the belief of a gentle
nudge of when that golden, cascading tide when we would hold each other tight
again would come, whether morning, noon or night whenever from, our bonds
too strong, our fear too great to crack or stress or sever what we had, our heightened
sense of the dread of banished loneliness unsaid. We’d die together, our hearts
and souls intertwined forever.

Then I opened my eyes to the broken mirror, a loathsome image I could only despise,
shattered in love’s cold strangle, feelings squeezed then crushed then left to dangle
in the dark light’s shadowy shine of lies; I realized her forever lost and cried.

I knew the twist, the twist fated forever weathered and withered again;
the twist never to mend, without ease, without cease, without peace,
without end; The twist that could only be the cruelest blow to my heart
there ever has been for I knew that my heart, the lost love part, would never
find her again.

Types of justice: No. 2 - Personal justice

Personal justice is what it sounds like. It's what we as individuals hold dear, namely our value systems. Our views of immorality and legality often overlap with our idea of justice but definitely not always. We feel an injustice has been committed when what we value has been offended. The idea of justice is one of finality. It's an "In the end" concept. The final decisions of court trials are what we consider justice, although we do see things that are "wrong" at times with the defense and prosecution along the way such as when a defense attorney accuses a father of sexually abusing his daughter (like in the Casey Anthony case.) We think: "That's wrong. That clearly didn't happen and it's wrong for the defense attorney to have used it as a defense." Court room tactics often annoy our sense of right and wrong. In such moments, we feel that an injustice has been done, though we usually don't use the term "injustice" for smaller things because we view justice with such heavy finality. The idea of justice has weight. It's serious and usually non-subjective. Morality can often be seen subjectively. What is moral for one isn't moral for another. Not so with justice. No one thinks: "The murderer got off without any punishment. In my value system, that's a good thing." Such thoughts are considered detestable by the vast majority of people as are the ones that think it. This is the main difference in what is considered moral and what is considered just. Though the two do often overlap, many traits of morality are subjective (such as certain hedonistic pleasures) while those of justice are usually not. Orthodox religious views are ones that tend to link their ideas of morality with justice. What their bible or prophets say is considered one and the same. It's like the fusion of church and state. To many religious people, church doctrine is all there is. To me, the two are not synonymous. Justice isn't blind. It's usually crystal clear. The term "No justice, no peace" is a very fitting one for society. We're often able to forgive ourselves for certain small "immoralities" and we're much more likely to forgive certain small immoralities committed against us but we will not let go when our sense of justice has been offended. We can forgive the tactics of a defense attorney but we cannot forgive a final unjust verdict because the verdict has that sense of finality. If a killer gets away with it, that's all there is to it. Can't be tried for the same crime twice so justice not only hasn't been done, in all likelihood it will NEVER be done. In such cases, we question ourselves and our system. Certain illegalities can be overlooked (like jaywalking) so long as we get the big things (justice) right. If we don't, we're driven to overhaul certain parts of our legal system. We do that occasionally with matters of immorality that disgust us (like child molestation) but we usually don't see this as being a justice situation. We don't think: "The child molester has been caught. Justice has been done." We think: "The child molester has been caught. The evil person won't hurt children anymore." This is splitting hairs a bit but you get the idea. In matters of murder, the idea is to punish the killer. That is justice. In matters of child molestation, the most important thing is incarcerating the perpetrator so he doesn't do it again. Separation via incarceration is considered the just verdict. Laws are constantly being adapted when it comes to protecting children (as they should be.) In these cases, justice and legality can be considered synonymous, though it's more a case of immorality and legality being synonymous. As a society, we don't execute child molesters. We just lock them up for good. That's immorality fueling legality. Justice is involved though we don't usually see it that way. In cases like child molestation, we usually leave it up to our views of social justice, such as child molesters being beaten or even killed by prisoners in jail. Obviously, this isn't legal justice. It's a sense of social justice overlapping with punishing immorality. The prisoners will accomplish what the legal system might not, namely a possible execution. That is a matter of the enormous concept of social justice, which I'll comment on in my third post on justice.

Well, these are some opinions of how justice, legality and immorality can intersect or be separate depending on how we, as human beings, see individual situations. It's based on perceptions, fueled by what we hold dear, of what we see as the correct way to handle things. How we see the situations is how we make decisions we consider just.

My Near Death Experience

This happened to me in 1996 when I was 23. I've told this story to several people but not for some time. I suppose it's time to blog about it as that's what I'm doing.

As I stated, I was 23 years old in 1996. I had never drank or taken drugs in HS but partied every now and then in college and got drunk when I did. I had familial problems and a lot of anxiety and depression symptoms. After going to several doctors, I took several different anti-depressants and anti-anxiety benzodiazepines. I'm telling you this as it has an influenced on my NDE. I was eventually diagnosed bipolar and I believe I experienced many manic episodes from a reaction to the anti-depressants (Prozac and others) I took before I knew I was bipolar. My grades and social functioning lowered substantially and I was soon dependent on enormous doses of benzodiazepines, morning, noon and night, to get me through the day. At some point, I considered myself an addict and, due to confusion, bad advice, and bad luck, my goal became to get off medications completely. I just wanted to go back to the way I was, a way that I now know I can never be again.

It was the summer of 1996 and I was at the Kentucky State Fair with my mother and sister. We were having a good time. I had been phasing down off of my benzos for several months. I was on 6 mgs of Ativan a day, a maximum dose that left me stoned and hypnotized, a state I had largely been in for years. I had been very careful to phase down properly as I was informed that stopping benzo use abruptly can cause seizures that are potentially deadly. I was down to about .25 mgs every other day. Withdrawal had been agony. I prayed to die several times during the agonizing pain I went through. I was literally a few days away from being phased off completely. I decided that the extra couple days didn't matter so I didn't take the usual, not very small, dose. .25 mgs every other day now? Quitting a few days early wouldn't kill me...I remember feeling free that day. I felt lucid and unencumbered. No drugs, no stoned sensation, no mental cloudiness. My Mom, sister and I were having a great time at the fair. It was late in the day and we were walking in an exhibit of Native American rugs that had been woven by locals. Then it happened...

Suddenly, I felt like my heart had popped like a balloon. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. I thought "Oh, my God..." moments before my body collapsed. I remember reaching my left arm and hand out to break my fall. I was out before I hit the ground. I believe that my system had been so anesthetized for so long that it just blew up. My body exploded. I had been instantly transported to a dark place. My first memory was looking up and to my left. It felt like I was in a giant room. I was confused, like I had been in one place in one reality and now I was in a completely new place in a completely new reality. My vision was blown wide open; it was like everything was infinity. No distractions, no blocks, no handicaps. From here on in, I experienced two things. One was the tunnel. Everything was dark except that the tunnel people so often talk about in NDE's was there. It was like energy, sort of a grayish. pulsating thing and it seemed to rotate. I could clearly make it out even with the rest of my vision dark. The second factor is the beautiful part: The overwhelming love. It was like I was in the middle of an ocean of love. Just imagine the happiest, most joyful thing you've ever experienced. Now make it total. There was love and all there was was love. It was incredible.

I don't know how long I was in that place. I remember waking up and hearing all kinds of activity around me though I didn't open my eyes. Soon, I realized that EMTs were there and they had been reviving me. I felt more exhausted than I had ever been in my life. Honestly, I felt reborn. Everything was new. Old problems felt swept away and I felt like a child again. They ran tests on me that showed I had no brain damage. In the days and weeks following, my physical limitations kicked back in. My bipolar disorder slowly returned as did my anxiety. I wanted to die several times in the following months simply to return to that unconditional love I had felt during my NDE. I just wanted to go back to that wonderful, overpowering love. For awhile, I felt bad about being "alive" again.

I mentioned my mental illness and drug use earlier for some context. I have had hallucinations and delusions many times in my life. I read that, when a person has been taking drugs, a NDE can be visually dark. I think that's why I didn't see anything (other than the energy tunnel which I could make out quite clearly.) Like I said, I have had all kinds of the worst symptoms of mental illness. My NDE was not a symptom. It was an experience. My consciousness was there. "I" was there. Not my physical body. My mind, my consciousness was there. As I'm an amateur psychologist, I'm the first to question what happened to me. If anyone else had said it, I would say that the person was hallucinating. I've had dozens of terrible hallucinations, from thinking I was Jesus Christ reincarnated to thinking I was Pontius Pilate reincarnated, destined to burn and suffer in hell for eternity because I condemned the "King of Kings." I was not deluded or hallucinating in my NDE. I was sharp, focused, myself. I was who I am and it taught me to separate my brain and any illness from my true essence because I now knew what my true essence was. I'm not a brain or a body. I'm me.

Types of justice - No. 1 Legal justice

Justice is a huge issue with me so I'm going to make three or four posts on types of justice. These are my views as I see them. Today, I'll cover legal justice. Later posts will involve ideas of personal justice, the enormous topic of social justice and possibly others. Firstly, we'll talk about the most obvious and simple kind of justice: Legal justice.

No form of justice is simple but legal justice is probably the simplest kind. Legal justice is what is on the books, what has been passed by state and federal legislatures. As I'm an American, I'll speak from my country's example. We are a republic, not a direct democracy. Citizens of a republic elect their officials to handle legal matters. Citizens in a direct democracy are all directly involved in the legal process. Direct democracy is unrealistic in nations as big as the United States. We have things to do so we elect representatives to handle socio-political matters for us. Our laws are thus written by these representatives. Federal judges are then chosen by Congress and/or the President to make rulings about federal laws that have been created. State judges can be appointed or elected depending on the area of legality. As I'm not a lawyer or legal expert, that's as far as I'll go on the X's and O's.

Like the mind/body problem in philosophy, there is a legality/justice problem. Spinoza believed that mind and body are the same thing. Certain proponents of matters of justice believe that codified law and justice are one and the same. This is the kind of view of true believers in the legal system, more orthodox black and white thinkers. If it's legal, it's justice. There are no shades of gray or variations. The two are one and the same and that's it because a civilized society wouldn't pass unjust laws. This is a hard line kind of reasoning which is understandable but, the more we know of individual court cases, the more an absolutist view of justice can be disproven. Humans make mistakes, even in important societal issues like justice. Therefore, even a well meaning, advanced civilization creates occasional injustice unintentionally. As justice is vitally important to the well being of humanity, this understandably causes a lot of fear in society. We all know of cases where people are unjustly convicted and even executed. All we can hope for is that it doesn't happen to us. Those that have the hard line view of the synonymous fusion of justice and legality are opposed by the anarchist view that law and justice are completely different. As society has passed many, many just laws in human history, the idea that justice and legality are separate can only anarchic. In this view, if legality and justice are different, then justice cannot be bound by laws. A lawless society is an anarchic one.

The nuances of legal justice come in its evolution. Laws such as "Stand Your Ground" have been on the books and, as we've seen from examples, are often not effective in our moral sense of righteousness. In the George Zimmerman/Trayvon Martin case, it seems clear that Zimmerman stereotyped and essentially stalked Martin, becoming involved in a confrontation that led to the black teen's death. As Zimmerman initiated the affair, it seems wrong to put him in the "just" category. However, for whatever reason, the Stand Your Ground law protected him and he was acquitted. This sparked outrage in many quarters as it seemed clear that an injustice had been created. In that sense, legality and justice were not synonymous. (There are differing opinions, of course, as to whether an injustice was perpetrated in that high profile case.) The law was brought to the attention of the nation and efforts have been made to change it. That's the evolution of the legal system. We're always trying to get it right in our views of what is right. Justice and our views of morality are synonymous. What we consider righteous is what we consider just.

In my view, justice and legality have to be synonymous. If they are not, then injustice is created. Again, sadly, we are not perfect. We can only do the best we can and hope we get it right the first time. If not, then we need to change a law until it is just.

Thank you for reading. Sorry if I ramble a bit as I don't often proofread my commentary for aesthetic quality. My next post will probably be on ideas of personal justice.

On Death: Death can't be the end...

...because something happens after "death." Either our soul and/or consciousness is set free into the universe, thus continuing the life cycle, or we "die" with our body. If so, our body takes time to decay. Therefore, the body doesn't just die so much as decays progressively over time. It is nonsensical to think that there is a finger snap moment of death. The only death we tend to think about is the moment that a person's heart stops beating for a long enough period that it can't be restarted. Such a time is always called "gone" as in "he's gone," meaning the ability to communicate in a personable way is finished. However, coma patients cannot communicate in a personable way but they're not dead. Death is defined as an ending. As far as people (and possibly other living organisms) go, "death" is truly just a product of change. It can be one of freedom or decay but it's still change. As change is something that happens, a changing situation cannot be a dead one. Therefore, if we change as we "die," we are not truly dead. We change and are constantly changing. The universe creates and changes. As part of that universe, we change along with it.

Critiquing Immanuel Kant's Critique of Pure Reason

I read a little Kant last night and I began thinking feverishly over this idea that synthetic propositions can be a priori. A synthetic proposition is an idea that has to be proven. It isn't self-evident. In contrast, an analytic proposition is one that is self-evident. "All bachelors are single," for example. This is self-evident and doesn't need any thought. Bachelor = single. We don't need to put it through experimentation to prove that. A synthetic proposition is one that isn't exact. "All bachelors are happy," for instance. We don't know if that's true or not. It isn't self-evident. We would have to ask every bachelor in the world whether they are happy or not. We would have to obtain and process date to prove whether it is true or not. The definition of "a priori" is the same as an analytic proposition. A priori knowledge is self-evident. "All bachelors are single," is an a priori statement just like an analytic proposition. Kant's argument in his work, Critique of Pure Reason, is that certain synthetic propositions can be a priori. This is a seeming contradiction. Synthetic propositions have to be proven. A priori knowledge is self-evident.

Kant's reasoning in this matter is founded on proving synthetic (only gained through experience) propositions and a priori knowledge (self-evident) are possible. He uses space and time as an example. We have an intuitive idea of space and time because we're programmed that way. We naturally see things spatially, therefore we have an instinctive sense of what space is. We also have a natural sense of time, such as a woman's "biological clock" of when she can have babies. Space and time are also something that need to proven through experience. There are natural laws of space and time that are arrived at through experimentation and calculation. So we seemingly have opposite ideas both being true, therefore there are some synthetic propositions that can be a priori.

While Kant's reasoning is sensible, many philosophers think it is a moot point. If two things contradict each other, they cannot both be true. I'll challenge the very idea of opposites. My thinking is that synthetic a priori judgments cannot exist because they are contradictory opposites. If two seemingly opposite ideas can both be proven true, logic tells us that they can't truly be opposites. If left is left and right is right, then the two can't be the same. Oil and water and can in the same container but they can't mix. Left and right seem to be opposites. One goes one way and the other goes the other way. But are they truly opposites? What if something goes left in a straight line? It's opposite would be something going right in a straight line. But what if the line going right is at a diagonal angle? It's still going right but it's not EXACTLY the opposite of the line going left. What if the line going left moves 10 feet? Let's say the line going right is on the same line as the one going left but only goes 5 feet. Are they opposites? One goes left, the other goes right but they aren't exact opposites because the logistics of one line are not the same as the other line. What if something goes up 10 feet, then down 5 feet? Up and down are opposites but are the details in this situation opposites? No. What seems like an analytic a priori self-evident idea can be proven false by actual mathematical facts. It seems Kant's ideas, which are matters of pure reason, are black and white. Trying to prove opposites disallows for a third option. A = B and B = C are seeming contradictions. If A = B, how can B = C? It's a seeming contradiction until we add that A = C. There are THREE aspects to this truth. If there are truths that can be arrived at in threes, is arguing how opposites can both be true, meaning we're dealing with TWO things, even important in the first place? Exact opposites cannot both be proven true in an argument. If there is one answer, it can't be both left and right. Kant makes excellent arguments for SEEMING opposites to be true. My criticisms are that his ideas of opposites are not truly opposites at all.

I hope I expressed this well as I thought of all this last night then slept on it. My thinking is trying to be out of the box. True opposites are absolute. All other "opposites" are simply based on one's perception of them being opposites.

Amy and Charles Schumer insult and stereotype the mentally ill on national TV

I'm bipolar. I was at a friend's house tonight and, sadly, saw the comments on Lawrence O'Donnell's show by Amy Schumer about gun violence. Firstly, I will say it isn't sad to want peace and to be against guns. I've been a moderate Democratic voter for years now and I understand the passion of left wingers on such things. That said, tonight, a very well meaning but vastly ignorant Amy Schumer got in front of a mic with her relative, Charles Schumer, smiling and nodding along, and lumped gun violence with "crazies." She said "people tell me you can't stop the crazies from being crazy." She then VERY OFFENSIVELY goes on to talk about treatment for the mentally ill as a way to stop such shootings. I've been through hell in my life. I don't have a gun and will never have a gun because I don't need a gun. Who the HELL does Amy Schumer thinks she is thinking she can comment on our community, the most marginalized of all minority groups in this country? I watched this crap in horror tonight as my peer group was stepped on and stereotyped in the name of gun control by a very well meaning young lady that doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground about the mentally ill. Conservatives think left wing people are a "mental disorder." Left wingers like Charles Schumer (with Amy as his ventriloquist's dummy) lump "crazies" in with gun violence. Who are we supposed to vote her? Apparently, if the left don't get us, the right one will (to use a boxing metaphor.) To say I'm outraged on this is an understatement. If a conservative said it, I'd be offended but I'd be able to move on easily because I expect that from the bigoted Right. A high ranking Democrat was behind this garbage tonight? Gun control and "lunacy" are not synonymous. In fairness to conservatives, I have also heard bigoted comments from the Left about people suffering from mental illness. I guess it's too much of a temptation for people with social power and influence to avoid running down a marginalized group that doesn't have the power or resources to force respect as gays and blacks do. As a moderate Democrat that voted that way the last three elections, I'm all for justice for gays and blacks. Hey, Charles and Amy Schumer! We're human beings, too! We're not a group to be thrown under the bus for your issues. I live in the swing state of Florida. I would like to vote Democrat again but I will NOT if I think our issues are not being considered with humanity and compassion. I've voted Democrat because I've viewed them as pro-social justice. Apparently, we don't fit in that group. The next election is key for Democrats because the Republicans have Congress. Maybe we "crazies" shouldn't support Democrats anymore. At times like this, I have no problem feeling that I'd love to see the Democrats thrown to the Republican sharks as fish food. Hopefully, my words are something for my community to consider. I've long considered social conservatives the enemy. Are the Democrats the same?

Emotions - Hate

I won't bother with "What is hate?" Hate is hate. We all know what it is. It's when you feel like destroying something or someone. It's when you feel resentment (another word for hate) for whatever reason. Hate defies intellect. Hate takes intellect and crushes it. Hate hates intellect. Powerful emotions rip into the dry, steady, calm intellect and tear it to pieces. If intellect is a calm sea, powerful emotion is the tsunami. Like all emotions, hate is very human. It is not a negative emotion though it can lead to actions considered very negative (violence.) No emotions are negative. If they are natural and felt by all humans, they just are. They exist as states of being and should not be condemned.

I'm writing this as I'm watching "Saved by the Bell" reruns. This was one of my favorite shows in HS. In terms of age, I'm contemporary with the actors and actresses. Watching it has brought back old memories of myself when I was around age 18. I remembered the hate of youth, at least my hate. I can't imagine anyone but the very popular and fortunate being as free of hate as possible. The rest of us feel the crushing weight of the social ladder. We are not at the top. That means we are to be criticized, to be looked down upon by at least the highest level. We learn to hate them for being higher than us for no apparent reason other than luck. We learn to hate ourselves for not being the most coveted people in our environment. We lose. We lose with the opposite sex and we lose with our own sex in terms of bonding. The lower we are on the social rung, the more hate we cannot help but have. We are human beings. We have feelings. Growing up, our lives are in front of us. They're in front of our faces everyday. We have contact with our parents and our peers, all we've ever known, on a daily basis. If we are unpopular, we are hated. We are hurt and rejected on a real, physical level. Our social happiness is compromised. In order to protect our pride, our sense of self-worth, we have no choice but to hate back (though hating ourselves is also unavoidable.) The unacceptable reaction is to act out violently. It's unacceptable because, even if we feel like we want or need to be violent, it will kill us in the world. The more violent we are, the more likely it is we will end up segregated (in jail) from the masses for long periods of our lives. The school bullies that lash out and pick fights are stuck in this vicious cycle. They're fighters stuck in a hopeless situation. Instead of swallowing their anger and hate like most, they react violently. They are the most easily ostracized members in the young world because they actually do something to provoke the hate of others. Hate breeds hate. Sociopathy (anti-social personality disorder) is a somewhat controversial and complicated issue. I don't dare say I know the proper combination of social and genetic factors that lead to it. However, if a young, innocent person is hated, perhaps because they're a young man that's effeminate or a young woman that has trouble being beautiful, it's not hard to see how such young people, emotionally immature to handle powerful emotions, can believe the whole world is against them. If they have no emotional support at school or at home, they can rightly lay claim to persecution. Combine that with inevitable hate that realization brings, along with the growing ego of age, and a hatred of people and the world is very understandable. Such people then are at risk to act out very violently (murder.) Their social world murders them when they're very young. They then return the favor. Sadly, this nearly always includes the destruction of innocents in some capacity. School shooters may be motivated by bullies but they invariably kill many people unassociated with their pain. By this time, because no one has come to their aid, young killers are satisfied with the mindless destruction of everything. "Everyone" hurt them. "Everyone" will pay. Those that have suffered, the families of the dead, then reassert the kind of hate that helped create such situations in the first place. The cycle repeats itself. The masses feel vindicated in their hate. Those at school rationalize bullying. They were right to have ostracized the shooters because of how "evil" they were. The cycle of hate continues, even after the shooters are dead (which nearly always happens.) Hate created them. Hate led them to ruin and destruction. Hate encases the legacy of their lives.

Is hate a motivator? Are we smart to allow ourselves to be motivated by hate? On the one hand, hate can lead to extreme focus and drive. Athletes are often driven by hate. If it isn't actual, it's created by them. "No one believed in us" is the most common expression. This motivates athletes to harness the surge of powerful hate, hate over being doubted or minimized or disrespected, into strength. We lift more weight when we're angry. Our bodies are more alive and energetic when hate surges through it. Athletes then produce destruction, destruction that is highly valued by society. If it's in the physical world, that means football or other aggressive sports. Such sports include the hate of the competitive mind which can spread into any activity. Chess players can hate losing and hate their opponent. As long as this hate leads to victory, it is good hate. That is how the athlete is evaluated. I was an athlete and I'm overly competitive. I hate. I hate losing. If the world is a competitive place, then I hate the world for competing with me. I don't hate people or society in reality but, as a motivational tool, I create hate and let it guide me to success. Many business people also put themselves in this position. The Japanese believe business is war. In that sense, hate is also used as a technique for success. So is hate a motivator? It can be. However, if we don't know how or when to turn it off, it can mushroom. Football players (and other athletes) that are guilty of domestic violence are an example of this. They can't turn off their angry, hateful aggression when they leave the field and their spouses or others pay the price. Hate dominates their lives and leads to their destruction.

In summary, hate is hate. It's a natural, real emotion, and unavoidable in our world. Hate can be a powerful weapon if channeled into production. It can also be a killer, a killer of the individual and a killer of others, if it's not managed properly. If it isn't, people suffer. Hate, (and associated emotions like resentment), is the most dangerous of emotions. We try to deal with it through cognitive behavioral therapy (getting a healthy viewpoint on things) or exercise (the aforementioned competition.) We even try to deal with through religion and forgiveness, trying to kill the hate we feel for those that have victimized us before it kills us. Hate is natural, normal, and dangerous.

As far as Saved by the Bell goes: It still makes me laugh.

Should the mentally ill have children?

I'll preface this by saying I'm a 42 year old bipolar and this subject has weighed greatly on my mind for decades. When I was diagnosed bipolar, knowing that it's a genetic illness and that genetic illnesses are passed down from generation to generation, I was horrified as to my future prospects. I've always had a strong, sometimes insane, sense of moral responsibility. "What SHOULD I be doing?" has been one of the questions of conscience I ask myself in many situations, some frivolous, some very important. "Don't sweat the small stuff" is an mantra that I have a lot of trouble incorporating into my lifestyle. Small stuff could mean getting cottage cheese with fruit at the grocery instead of pizza. Eating pizza would make me fat. Is fat an immoral thing in the context of being out of shape because out of shape means poorer functioning and poorer functioning means more of being a societal burden? This is how I often think so you can imagine how the issue of whether I should have children or not weighs on my mind. I have a few other genetic quirks that I won't mention here that would also (in all likelihood) be passed down. To me, the moral point lies in two directions.


MY NEEDS: Do I want to have children? I would have to regress in my thinking to when I was around age 18 before my bipolar diagnosis threw the proverbial monkey wrench into the situation to analyze it properly. As a 20 year old, At 18, I had not been diagnosed with anything nor felt the major effects of illness yet. At that point, I lived in the moment and didn't think of the future, which is probably normal for most people that age. My attitude was more "If it comes, it comes. If it doesn't, it doesn't." That was my mantra BUT I had no doubts deep down that it would come. I hadn't done anything to hurt my chances and I had no reason to think that any kind of illness would get in the way. My parents and aunts and uncles had married, right? One of my aunts was the "crazy" aunt and was pretty well ostracized from the family. I didn't think on her situation or consider it important. I knew nothing about psychology at that time but, I think like most people, I knew certain traits were hereditary. We talked about that in science class with Mendel and the peas (I think it was peas.) It came as a shock when I started exhibiting signs of extreme anxiety at age 17. I had always been an excellent baseball player but, at this time, I started losing control of my throwing. I had a very difficult time throwing straight, a skill that had been an unconscious breeze for year. I would overthrow it or throw it in the dirt. As I was on my baseball team, this caused CONSIDERABLE anxiety for me. Looking back, I feel that was the onset of bipolar disorder. Up and down, can't be straight. Still, I succeeded on the baseball field in spite of my problem. Once my baseball career was over, I felt very relieved. I had lost it and I was done with it. So I blazed forward confidently into college. After half a year, I was showing symptoms of overwhelming anxiety and depression. Being diagnosed depressive was a major blow. Depression is hereditary. Would I pass that on? My mental philosophy was "It was a chemical imbalance, I'm not crazy." That was the angle my therapists preached. I became in denial about genetics. It was full steam ahead again. Then, after very out of character behavioral problems plagued me, I was diagnosed bipolar in 1995. This was a very devastating blow. Bipolar was one of the "bad" illnesses, like schizophrenia. It was a stigma illness. A lot of people had depression. Not many had bipolar disorder. I felt branded. "Full speed ahead" could never happen again. Now, I was a thinker and a brooder, even more than I had been naturally. What the heck does a person with bipolar disorder do? I had never been around a bipolar person. I didn't know what "they" were. In fact, growing up a conservative due to my father, I made fun of "crazy people" as genetic inferiors. Now, the tables were turned. I was the "inferior." Then came a staggering period of traumatizing and attacking myself. The jerk who say others as genetic inferiors was still there and that side of my hated the newly diagnosed bipolar side. I was two people now, opposites. Though certain realities were sinking in slowly, I was still in denial. Frankly, I couldn't cope. I had no real support and no education and adjustment as to what I was. I was alone in the dark. As my life prospects narrowed, my outlook narrowed as well. I was minoring in political science and wasn't averse to running for office one day. Can't do that when you're bipolar. I wanted to be as functional as possible and I wanted to take on the world. A bipolar can't do that. The stress would break me down. Around the time I was diagnosed, I dating stopped. Why will always been an mystery to me. I believe that part of it was due to my struggles. I was fading from "full speed ahead." I was losing, falling behind the Joneses. From there, my life has been an exercise in coping with illness on a daily basis, like an HIV or cancer sufferer. I have given up on having children in a moral sense. That I'm 42 is making it look like that is a certainty. I have wanted to date for some time and I want to get marries. I'm doing the starving artist thing right now, writing a book, and I don't have an official job. That's another reason why having children isn't a good idea for me. A father needs to have money. I have none of it. I feel the need to have children. I visualize it and it makes me happy. However, I do not consider it realistic and that leads me into the second direction.


THE CHILD's NEEDS: I can't give a child much at this point in my life and I might not be able to give them anything at any point in my life. A normal life for the child is impossible. They would have at least a portion of the genetic quirks I have. That means the child will be attacked and persecuted at school for being different. Can I subject a child to that? Can I subject them to that knowing ahead of time that it will happen? In my eyes, it would happen. Schools are schools and bullying and hate exists in both public and private schools because I've been in both. I would have to be sadistic to put a child into that environment. I have though about home schooling and that would be an excellent option. That's an option that gives me some hope that I could have a child one day. The hardest part would be seeing the child struggling internally. It also seems sadistic to birth a child that would struggle on a daily basis just to get up in the morning. That also seems a sadistic thing to inflict upon a young, innocent person. Love and care only go so far. I could never take my child asking me why I had he/she if I knew they would have to struggle every day in life because they would be right. I could love them every day but I his or her life would be painful and difficult. To me, it's too much to ask of young person to be birthed by me. It's also too much to ask a normal, healthy woman to lay with me. She would be idiotic to subject her child to the likelihood of genetic illness if she doesn't have to and I can't expect that. I feel I have to take the higher road. It may kill me down deep but I have to do what I feel is best for all involved. That includes a greater societal responsibility to not produce someone that would be a drain on the system's resources. As I have grown into a blatant non-materialist, this seems the least important factor but, as someone with a conscience that is concerned with the greater good, it is a factor nonetheless.


CONCLUSION: This is a deeply personal issue to the potential parent with a mental illness. My conclusion is that it's a subjective perception. There is no absolute "yes or no" to the idea of a mentally ill person having children. The most severe illnesses, such as bipolar and schizophrenia, should garner the most thought as those problems would create the greatest potential for the most severe future issues for all involved. Financial matters are very important. A wealthy mentally ill person would be able to best treat a youth with a genetic illness thus producing the best chance for future success and happiness. Should a mentally ill person suppress or ignore the biological need to have children due to the above factors? If a mentally ill person chooses to have children, many realities much be confronted. The question must be asked of the individual sufferer: "Is this a good idea?"

What is sadness? Internal and external influences with an emphasis on mental illness

As a follow up to my posts on happiness, I'll attempt to provide insight into the often extremely powerful emotion of sadness. I think there's a difference between sadness and depression. Sadness is caused more by external factors. Depression can be existential. It's often chemical, caused by an imbalance. You can be depressed sitting in your home alone for no reason. I don't consider that sadness. Granted, it's splitting hairs a bit but I think there is that difference. Sadness is defined more by things that make us sad. Failures in the material world, failures in love, failures at things that are important to us cause sadness. That comes from our expectations. If we have a more fragile brain chemistry, what are typical, normal, unescapable life events that trigger sadness can shift into the dark, black moods of depression. As a bipolar person, I know that feeling, the transition of sadness (like being pushed to the edge) from depression (which is falling off that edge.) Social standards often play a huge role in sadness. In a given culture, what is valued, what garners pleasurable rewards, or what produces a general sense of self-worth and self-esteem (sometimes all three combined) create our views of what is good (that which we've come to internalize as valued) and what is bad (that which is considered socially out of step.) It is possible (and does happen) that, due to mental illness, specifically emotional illness, a person can internalize "crazy" ideas of what is valued and what is not. Unless a person lives in a society where the mentally ill have dominant influence (and that really doesn't exist), the person can become sad because what they tend to value, which can become very distorted, is not valued by the culture. Even worse, the person with a mental illness is presented with an ultimatum by his/her peers: Either go to a psyche clinic and/or take drugs or you will be ostracized from the culture, a culture which often produces the stigma that a mentally ill person can trigger in ignorant non-sufferers. This can make the sufferer very, very sad. The mentally ill person is a victim of illness but it's an illness that makes the majority of people very uncomfortable. The societal perspective on mental illness is the more sufferers, the more accepted it is. Depression and anxiety, and those that suffer from them, are relatively accepted. They're considered as "not that bad" as far as social condemnation goes. Many famous people have depression and anxiety so this stigma is lessened. Bipolar disorder is much less accepted. Bipolar is much more alien to the majority and much more feared. "Aren't those people violent?" the majority asks. Even those that suffer from depression and anxiety can come to condemn the bipolar. In their need to be accepted by the majority, they can attack bipolar people with as much ferocity as "normal," healthy people do. "We have depression and anxiety but we're not as bad as those people!" they say. I have experienced such things. The sadness that comes from being a member of a marginalized group becomes worsened by being a marginalized person IN that marginalized group! Poor schizophrenics have it the worst. They suffer enormously yet are reviled by the general public. "We know those people are evil!" they say. Serial killers, both real and fictional, are branded as violent schizophrenics. Schizophrenic sufferers, already bombarded with nightmarish delusions and hallucinations, are finished off by the ignorant hate of the general public. These people are murdered inside and out. Being a bipolar person (who has had hallucinatory and delusional symptoms triggered by depression), it makes me VERY SAD to see people suffering worse than I. A strong moral center based on compassion can be both a credit and a burden in this way. The pain of others can exacerbate the chemical fragility of the brains of the mentally ill. This "weakness" adds to the cycle of sadness. This sad worldview, a very real reality to the mentally ill, thus becomes a further descent into the grave of pessimism already dug by the progression of illness. The only way to cope with this existential, ever present sadness is to try and change our perspective. To minimize sadness, one has to destroy or change the views internalized early on by majority opinion. We learn things from our normal peers in school. This is often to hate what we feel inside ourselves. Crazies are evil, we're taught, so we come to hate ourselves because of what we see as that "evil" brewing inside us as we get older and more stressed. We shove dark thoughts down deep, hoping that they'll go away. That we have these symptoms is another source of sadness. We, often fueled by ignorance even in our own family members, thus making our support systems counter productive, come to blame ourselves. We're "evil" and we "know" it. One has to grow cognitively and learn new perspectives or face complete oblivion. It's the only way the sufferer can broaden his/her horizons and gain relief from the total sadness of feeling like a societal burden without mentally detaching (escaping) from reality. Cancer patients are justly pitied; the mentally ill are blamed and loathed. This is how it has been. Will it change in the future? Will we, as a majority, come to see the truth and to accept our mentally ill population as sufferers and not perpetrators? Time will tell. Thank you for reading his far. I'm sorry if I repeated or lapped myself.

Not getting what we deserve: The life frustrations of being mentally ill

As I've written, I'm bipolar. I was a successful student and athlete in HS with successful, working parents in Wisconsin. I had earned success and I had no reason to believe that the opportunity would not be there in the future. I put emphasis on "opportunity." I'm not talking having anything handed to me. I'm talking, due to good health, of being able to work and contribute to society. My deterioration began, in bits and pieces, towards the end of my HS days and mushroomed as I was going to college. I was coping with major depression and anxiety my freshman year but I pressed on. I got good grades my first year (except for Algebra 2, though I worked my ass off.) Over time, trying to cope with a major illness I didn't know I had, I started losing at the game of life. My grades in college plummeted as I became dependent on benzodiazepines to avoid constant panic attacks and antidepressants that may have triggered mania to avoid black moods. I was afraid of my illnesses. Deathly afraid. Here I had been, a success. Now I was fighting for my life against something I didn't understand. My "support" was also very sketchy at this time. My Mom had left home and was living for herself. My Dad thought I was a lazy freeloader after awhile. Not surprisingly, this added a LOT of stress to my life, which aggravated my condition. I became more interested in darker things, from drunken partying to slasher films on TV (which I had never liked before.) I began avoiding schoolwork by my junior year. I avoided it and attempted to cram at the end of the semester. In some classes, I didn't get away from it and I bombed. I just wanted to be happy during this time. I was fighting for my identity and for simple peace of mind. And I was failing increasingly. I had to leave college after my junior year or I would have flunked out. I went from successful student to complete waste in two years. The more I tried to stem the tide, the higher my stress level. I tried drug after drug, desperately trying to find a drug combination that would help correct a chemical imbalance that I didn't understand. I knew nothing about psychiatry and I would be a few years away from trying to learn about it. I just wanted to be happy. I didn't want my life cluttered with an illness. I was 18 when I was first diagnosed with depression. My life was just ready to take off. I had earned it. All the tough times I had in HS, I had earned it, damn it. Now it was being stolen from me by a mental illness. My intelligence and toughness were two things I prided myself on. Now I had problems just getting up to go to class. I never took naps during my summers in HS. Now I was taking one everyday in college because I had to. My energy was being drained from me by the depression. I would be exhausted just sitting there. My symptoms had me angry and my thoughts were angry and aggressive. Instead of listening to gangsta rap just for enjoyment, I was now identifying with the words. I was in trouble and I was only getting worse. I left to live with my Mom and work in Atlanta, then I went back to school. It was during this time that I was diagnosed bipolar. It was devastating. I was minoring in political science with the possible hope of making a difference in elected office. Now that was impossible yet I had gone so far with my minor that I was still taking poly sci courses. I had no future yet I was trapped in the same classes. It would be like a person recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease taking classes about having a strong, well functioning memory. After one terrible year back in Wisconsin, where I was at the brink of suicide twice, I left school again and went to work in Kentucky, where I lived until I was 10. I went back to Wisconsin with the intention of finishing school. I stayed with my Dad for a brief period. He thought I was a freeloader and a loser by this time. What was happening to me was all my fault in his eyes and I was now a failure in his eyes. My Dad, my best friend and confidante growing up, hated me now and I hated him. After another failed work experience, we had a violent domestic dispute and I ended up sentenced and committed. I was a winner in HS. I didn't drink or smoke and I was successful. Now I was convicted of domestic violence and incarcerated in a psyche clinic for 6 months. I had fought so hard to be successful again. I had been on and off and on and off my meds because they made me so sleepy when I took them that I couldn't function. There was a ton of "Why me?" Why all that agony? I became deluded. I started believing in reincarnation and I assumed that I had been Hitler or Pontius Pilate in a previous life. Why else was I suffering that much when my intentions were good? Over time, by age 42, I've become much more stable in my mind and in my life. I'm working on a book, pursuing personal interests and trying for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But I can never work a full time job again. I have before but I can't now. I'm young, just 42, yet the stress is too much and the high functioning is impossible for me. A part time job is possible but hasn't materialized. I try to "let go and let God." If I'm going in that direction, he doesn't want me to work in the public or private sector. A confusing situation? In my case, yes. I have high hopes for my book. It's excellent so far and I'd love to make some money with it to be able to support myself. Right now, I'm on disability and parental help (we're all understanding about my situation now.) I'm all over the internet and I'm enormously curious about life. I'm also still very driven to succeed, whether my health will allow me to or not. I see successful people, many much less talented or honest or decent than myself. They're getting what they want. I use "celebrity culture" for example. So many of these celebrities are useless yet they're getting what they want out of life and I can't? They're stupid and immoral but they're functional. I see that functioning and I get so jealous. It's wanting to run the marathon so badly but being a double amputee. I clench my fists a lot. Avoiding the world would perhaps cause less pain but I'm not a shrinking violet. I'm a jerk and a competitor. I'm still a winner, I hope. I still strive and I still try. It's just all so frustrating. I am being prevented from the kind of success I want to achieve. I'm trying to make lemonade out of lemons but I could just cry at times.

Bipolar: My Story - Part 1

I am a bipolar person. I learned this, officially, when I was 22. I had felt it for years, though I had no idea what it was. As psychology is not taught in high school (at least, not when I went to high school from 1987-1991) as a serious discipline and my parents were not educated in the subject, I, like most people my age, went about my business. That meant my day to day affairs. Like all young people, school was my job for virtually my whole life and functioning in that environment was my responsibility. The focus was on getting the job done. That meant good grades, good behavior, success at sports (really success at everything) within reason. While my parents preached this success to me, they were also much more relaxed about it. "Don't work too hard," was what my Dad frequently said, not because he was lazy or wanted me to be but because he didn't want me to be stressed at the day to day routine that life was. I, however, from a young age, was temperamental. I believe that part of my genes came from my grandfather on my mother's side. Growing up, I always took myself and everything that happened to me deadly seriously. When triggered, I had a ferocious intensity about me, a competitive streak. I had to win and not only win big. I had to dominate or it wouldn't matter. This streak could be extremely vicious and out of control. When I was in an intense mood, it was usually overwhelming. My brain would light fire and burn for awhile. By the time I was 18 and the stress of leaving home was rapidly approaching, the fire seemed to burn hotter and hotter until it became an existential rage. My school years were successful and I wouldn't be necessarily be angry at anything in my world (though I often convinced myself I was.) LL Cool J's "Mama said knock you out," was how I felt in growing regularity. I got into hard core rap because they were intensely angry, though they, in their minds, had a societal reason to be. I didn't, yet I was full of rage anyway. I knew something was wrong but I didn't know what. Right around that time, my parents separated for good. Though I had always been a somewhat morose person, getting down for what often seemed like foolish reasons, I had never been in a tailspin like the one started when my parents separated. We had moved out of state when I was 10 and I had been greatly abused by the kids at my new school. I cherished my home life in compensation and lived in dread for the approaching time when I had to go to school to be attacked. Though being insulted and, conversely, learning to insult others, was my day to day life, I had some friends though I was never near what would be called popular. When my parents separated, my mother started to tell me all kinds of terrible things about their relationship. As I was a freshman in college and my life was just taking off, this parental instability preyed greatly on my mind and affected me at school. Prodded by my increasingly unstable mother, I went to a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with depression. This started my journey to diagnosis, every psyche drug in the book, eventual learning and my striving for moments of mental and emotional clarity, acceptance and freedom from pain (which is a constant fight.) I saw my college life, friendships, personality and health plummet to near incompetence and complete lack of functioning as I tried to figure myself out amidst near constant family criticism. I failed miserably several times in many things I attempted, suicidal in my mind many times and at the edge of attempts a few times. I was completely lose emotionally for many years until, after leaving and going back to college several times as I tried to "get my head straight" as I called it, I was so sick I literally stopped going to class in 1996, hanging out with some friends for the next few months, living in terror of when I'd have to tell my father that I had had to quit on school. He was emotionally abusive towards me when he found out, treating me like I was deadbeat (my Dad is a Republican) who was just a lazy bum. Just before I told him, I was committed to committing suicide beforehand but I couldn't do it. I soon checked myself in to my first clinic. I had no insurance and my father paid for it, angry as hell the whole way. This was in the summer of 1996. As much hell as I had gone through, my most hellish years (and moments of triumph), were still to come. I will continue with that part of my story later. Relating a few things I have experienced has made me very, very tired and very, very sad. I want other bipolars and people with other mental illnesses to draw strength from my comments. I very much want to help others like me. Those that have been through hell and are possibly experiencing such things now, I can only offer my love and support from a distance and in spirit. I wish there was gold at the end of every rainbow (including mine) but it is hell having a mental illness and our futures are always uncertain. You are welcomed and constantly loved wherever you are. I would help physically if I could but all I can offer is care over cyber space. I care. As only one human being, I am always with you with love and understanding. Please be strong and hope.

What is happiness? Internal influences

My previous post concerned the external influences that affect our happiness; now I'll comment on what is, perhaps, an even stronger determinate of our happiness, namely internal factors. Such questions are really only an extension of "nature vs. nurture" and "experience vs. reason." They're questions of how we relate to the world and the world relates to us. With progressive discoveries in brain science, psychology and philosophy (to a certain extent) have turned the focus of addressing questions of humanity inward. No longer are questions of metaphysics (such as how a "God" impacts our lives) the most pertinent. Questions of what happens outside our world seem almost primitive in the world of modern science. That said, nature, more than nurture, has been the primary focus on explaining who we are and why we are who we are. Biology and how it affects brain chemistry are vitally important to how we see the world, how we see ourselves and how we feel in general. Emotions have been linked to the brain's amygdala, the walnut sized ganglion (had to look that up) in our mid-brains. As a Romantic, I'm annoyed at the prospect that the awesome power and beauty of human emotions are perceived by science as coming from a "ganglion" (whatever that is) the size of a walnut in our brains. So boring! Still, I accept whatever is true. If our emotions are purely physical, coming from the mid-brain, then so be it (although it's more complicated than that.) Regardless of how they're created, emotions are very complex and are an enormous part of what makes us human. So how does our internal makeup impact our happiness? How we express emotions depends on how they're produced in our brains and how they're affected by the external world. Mental illnesses such as bipolar disorder and major depressive disorder greatly impact how our emotions are produced and, more importantly, are regulated in our brains. Personality disorders like borderline personality also have huge impacts on our moods and feelings. In the grip of such illnesses, emotions can become delusional and elusive. The individual can enter into escapism and never return. This can create a false happiness which can thrive as long as the individual never leaves the fantasy world. In our real world, this is, of course, impossible as we can only survive by suspending our disbelief for brief periods. The physical science of the brain will always drag the healthy individual back to the physical realities of the world around us. From a purely scientific perspective, that science of mind, neurotransmitters in our brains, govern what we think and feel. How that brain chemistry is then developed by our contact with people and other external factors dictates how we feel. Simple as that. And, scientifically, this is reasonable and, as human research continues, no doubt, biologically true. However, cold, bland, wonderful science doesn't stand a chance of winning the battle over emotional perspective when it comes to combining emotions with abstract imagination and creativity. Our creative imaginations take emotions in hand and explode them into colors, fictional worlds that take us beyond the stars, moments of human drama that inspire us to strive and give life meaning. In short, emotions in the hands of science are dull and lifeless. Combined with imagination, emotions are priceless, the reason why we're alive. If we don't feel and express our emotions in ever more complicated patterns, we become empty robots, devoid of color and life, only capable of thought. No matter how brilliant and developed our thoughts become, it isn't enough. We have to be artistic; we have to paint and be moved by paintings. We have to draw and be amazed by what we're capable of creating. We have to produce music and revel in the beauty of the melodies. Like thoughts and emotions, our creative energies also come from within. Bring them all together and we are human, we are whole. Emotions, especially, become how we motivate ourselves. This is true human happiness. We feel it inside. We are complete.

What is Happiness? External influences

I'm hoping to do a series of posts where I take a different emotion and analyze exactly what that emotion is and means (if I'm successful.) So I'll start with happiness. Happiness is what? Firstly, let's consider the exterior. What makes us happy in the world? Happiness by external means can be considered in different ways. Firstly, there is the kind of happiness that we hopefully all feel and that is parental/sibling happiness. Beyond ourselves, this is the first kind of happiness it is possible to experience. Psychologists say we have to be held and we have to experience positive emotional feedback. If this is attained, as infants, we live with an early, unconscious kind of pleasurable state that can only be termed happy because the opposite of positive early development can only be deemed unhappy. As youths, without the conscious experience that comes with age, we can only exist in one of these two states as we're not learned enough to know shades of gray. As we grow older, we begin to experience ourselves. We begin to realize what we think (even if we don't yet know how or why we think it.) As we're taught things, presumable life lessons, by our parents and teachers, we begin to set our thoughts against the background of these concepts. As we're not yet mature or aware enough to be strong in ourselves, we naturally compare what we know of ourselves against these qualifications. A powerful, early state of happiness or unhappiness is created in these moments (assuming the young person is in a relatively normal social world.) If the young person's thoughts and feelings match up with what is considered good in their environment, the person is happy. It is like passing through a gate while traveling through a world the traveler doesn't understand. The traveler is happy when the gate opens and the traveler is able to continue. If the young person's thoughts and feelings do not harmonize with his or her surroundings, only emotional stress can arise. If validation is all the young person can value, then clashing with the accepted standards will create emotions such as confusion, unease, fear, panic, perhaps anger or other such emotions. A strong, intelligent, older person can rationalize (and even embrace) these kinds of emotions as being part of life. The mature mind can cope but the younger mind can't seek such refuge of the experienced and will feel the stress and pain that the possibility of dislike or rejection will create. Such a state of being cannot be considered anything other than unhappy. Only a young masochist could possibly be happy in such moments of painful emotion but that is the product of an emotionally malfunctioning brain. The possibility that the young person receives mixed messages both from early teachers and parents should also be considered. With age, the young person can see these realities as being part of the gray area of human reality but can only become confused by such mixed messages at such a life stage. As the young person grows older, he or she, through often painful experience, begins to process information from their environment both at home and at school. Peers become vitally influential and parents less so. A diverse educational process allows the maturing young adult to see life being lived from many different perspectives by seemingly different people. The young adult, if experiencing doubt about their sexuality or other important emotional issue, may find succor at this moment by realizing that there are people in the world just like them. This will lighten unhappy feelings of confusion and doubt. At this point, the maturing adult becomes not quite happy with HAPPIER. The maturing adult now lives in a world of differences, different people and different things. Their emotional burden is less but they realize that there are people in the world who dislike who and what they are and always will. The maturing adult learns that you can't please everyone. There is no such thing as total and absolute acceptance. This creates the opposite states of awareness that the world is full of potential friends and potential enemies. Young adults at this stage begin to pursue and find their friends and create their social groupings of like minds. They find their social happiness in groups of similar people. Popular people hang with the other popular people. Outcasts find each other. People with similar creative interests or favorite sports teams or similar unconscious insecurities socialize together. A truly mature adult would then grow to not only include those in their own social grouping but will try to make friends with people in other groupings. Unfortunately, this is often not the case in our often ignorant, frightened society. Many in our world stay in their like minded social groups and never leave them. Popular kids continue to aim high and achieve a higher social status than others. Outcasts grow to hate the world. People with similar religious beliefs grow to hate others with different beliefs, etc. Such social distinctions are based on fear, whether it be the fear of the unknown or the fear of the other person and that fear, being an unpleasant emotion, cannot make the sufferer happy. Narrow world views cannot be happy unless the individual's conscious mind is either ignorant to ways other people think and feel or is constantly fed data designed to keep the individual in a sense of social stagnation. Certain preachers telling their followers about the horrors of other religions only, without telling them positives of the other person's faith, is an example. The preacher's intent is to keep the lay person in the flock by telling half truths designed to keep the listener firmly in that social grouping. The follower is then socially stagnated as they are only active within one circle of people, no matter how large, that think and feel the same way of things. If an individual is stuck in such situations, he or she can only be considered socially happy if they are oblivious to all outside their realm of consciousness. That, however, is not the real world. The real world is loaded with many different things and many different people with many different styles and cultures. Only by experiencing the real world in all its shades can a person strive to achieve full happiness in the external world. All that is true has to be considered. As I am not married or have children, I'll end my dialogue on external influences that affect happiness at this point. I'll continue with the idea of happiness as experienced via internal influences. To go with my previous thoughts, an internal way of perceiving social happiness can be derived by ones mental attitude. Accepting the world for what it is and enjoying the differences can be modified to the view that, yes, the external world is full of differences but we, as people, are all similar underneath. In such a view, we become Disney's Small World in a way that can make us feel happy as we are content that we are all flesh and blood down deep. Such perceptions, those that come from personal awareness, education and possibly an introverted mind will be discussed in my next post. Thank you for reading this far.